Peacock Monster: Anatoly (complete)

    To be quite frank, I’m not at all excited about this new job. I’ve come a long way from showing off the latest models at boat shows and posting as many images to defeat the algorithm on social media apps. I started modeling in order to help keep my Auntie’s burlesque theatre open. She’s been there for me and my mom since I was little. Now that she’s gotten older and has gotten sick, I wanted to pay back all the love and kindness she showed to a teenage mom and her unplanned, but loved baby. 

    I grew up in that theatre, watching all the women get dressed and ready for the shows. I was fawned over and bathed in feather boas. The girls were all kind and sweet, all of them extremely talented one way or another. I have nothing but good memories stemming from that museum, so if posing in lingerie for print magazines and advertisements can do any good, it’ll be this.

    But as I said, this new job has me a bit unnerved. The fashion house I’ve been called to work with is called Pavlinov and, in recent years, it has become infamous for its wild and hedonistic designs that mingle with the classic silhouettes and motifs of the bygone years. Last year, their theme was the ‘Roaring 20s’ and I would be lying if I said I didn’t buy at least half the collection.

    Not only was Pavlinov famous for their unique and yet familiar designs, they were known for employing unorthodox models. This included transgender models, nonbinary, disabled folk, and plus sizes. They had both been hailed for it and had come under scrutiny for ‘fetishizing’ these types of people. To this, the owner of Pavlinov replied: “Everyone deserves to be seen. How you look at them is all up to you, you dirty, dirty perverts.”

    As much as I respect that, since I keep getting labeled a plus-sized model myself, Anatoly Pavlinov is known as a particularly hard man to work for. He’s very much the diva you want to imagine a fashion designer being. I’ve heard many a name bandied about for him, some ok, some bad. Then there are some I wouldn’t even whisper during the heat of sex. They say he’s finicky, pretentious, temperamental, can turn on a dime, and is prone to temper tantrums. 

    I’m not good at handling assholes, which makes me nervous for working with such a renowned house of fashion. I don’t want my reputation sullied because this guy snapped off to me and I stepped out of bounds. Back at the burlesque theatre when I was just a teenager, some guy weaseled his way backstage. He would try to talk to the women and when he got rejected and asked to leave, he pitched a fit. When he came my way, everything I had watched on WWE kicked into gear and I hit him with a fold-up chair. After that, my mom had me join a boxing class, hoping that would end my chair slinging days. 

    I didn’t want to punch, or god forbid, chokehold my new boss. Lord knows what would happen to me if I ever did such a thing. I would have to keep myself in check, better yet, I would have to realize that this wasn’t everything. I could go back to boxing for money if I had to. I only turned to modeling because it paid better. 

    I am walking into work the first day, I haven’t dressed up or anything. I simply tied my hair back in a messy bun and am wearing my work out clothes. As I sign in to the building, other models are coming in as well. I feel a bit better seeing them, everyone is different. I can appreciate that Pavlinov doesn’t make everything so homogenized. 

    I follow the rest of the models and go into a big warehouse type room with strong overhead lighting. At one end, there are rows and rows of clothing that surround the dressing area. At the other end is the photo booth, all white with cameras set up and people milling around as they discuss props. At the far corner, there is a coffee bar with baristas and everything.

    I set my things down as I try to take it all in. A second later, I am grabbed by a woman and yanked down. They pull down my hair and set to work on styling me. It all happens so fast, I feel a bit overwhelmed. I am then thrown, naked, to the wolves, who put me into a lingerie set. The bra set is made from pearls and glass beads, there is a caged petticoat around my waist. Under it, I have matching stockings and garters with a pair of underwear that matches the beaded bra. Luckily, the lining of these things is comfortable. 

    As I am shoved out into a line with the other models, everything becomes quite quiet. We are all made to stand tall and stiff as the doors open. I hear shouting and fussing, and then the clack of heels on the stone floor.

    Anatoly Pavlinov is a tall and imposing figure. He is extremely lithe and elegant in his appearance. His face is sharp and angled, plumed with brilliant blue feathers, but the rest is black and white symmetry. His eyes are bright rubies that glow from within. His neck is extremely long, showing off the brilliant sapphire blue feathers there. His hips and legs bleed from blue, to black, fluttering into white and gray feathers that fluff around the hips. From his back, the brilliant emerald green and gold feathers drag like an elegant cloak behind him. At any moment, they can stand on end, creating his own glorious backdrop. He wears stiletto heels and a suit so tailored to his form, it looks like he’d been born in it. The shirt hangs open, showing more of the sapphire blue.

    He struts before the line of models and barely glances at us. After he walks down the line once, he stands at the end and cranes his neck. He then turns to the assistant desperately trying to keep pace with him, even though she is wearing far more comfortable shoes than him. The two whisper for a long moment before he stomps his heel. 

    He steps forward, looking over the first model up and down. “This is…” he grimaces. “Hmm. You are not suited for green. Whoever put you in green is an utter moron. Someone get this poor man into something red before I shoot him.” He shoos away the model then steps to the next one in line. “This girl is way too short. Far too short. It’s rude. It sneers in the face of fashion. Get her on set this instant! You! Tall girl at the very end! Go with her! Wait! Go with her once you get something better on. I hate what you’re wearing.”

    Anatoly steps down the line again. “Whoever thought gold would suit the bedroom?” He rips the bra off one model and tosses it aside. “Good lord, where are your tits? That’s rude. Go to the camera now. I’ll slap you, hurry!” The girl runs away from him and then he’s standing before me. 

    I already hate this guy. Everything he’s done to this point has either made someone leave crying or sent someone shaking up to the camera. I stand my ground before him, glaring heatedly into his eyes as he looks me up and down.

    Anatoly meets my glare and a smirk crosses his lips. “You have the eyes of a hateful person. That’s good.” He slips his long, silky fingers under my chin. “Those are the eyes of a woman who knows what she wants. A woman who hatefucks like a champion.”

    I yank my chin away from him and keep silent.

    Anatoly smirks. “Go change,” he then says. “I won’t be needing a brute for work today.”

    I stare off after him. After having been asked to come here to work today, I’ve been excused? I roll my eyes and go to the dressing area. I collect my things and the wolves help me take off the complicated lingerie. As I’m getting ready to leave, Anatoly’s assistant stops me at the door. 

    “Mr. Pavlinov wants to see you in his office, Ms. Coriander.” She hands me a keycard. “Use that to access the elevator and it will take you to his office on the top floor.”

    I look over the keycard then at the assistant. “Am I getting fired?”

    “I’m not sure,” the assistant pushes her glasses back up her nose. “I just know he doesn’t let people he’s going to fire into his office. I would hurry then.” She scurries off.

    I then head to the elevator, where I scan the keycard. The doors swoosh open and, inside, I see myself. The mirror at the back makes me jump nearly out of my skin, but I slip inside and the doors close. 

    I’ve never been in such a cold elevator before, and since I am only wearing a simple bra, my nipples are poking through the fabric. The door then opens into a grand office. The floors are a brilliant green and the walls are covered by a floral wallpaper that looks like fabric. There is a black desk poised before wide windows. Beside the desk, there is an easel with a stool behind it. Anatoly is perched on the stool, fuming at the paper before him. He takes the giant sketch pad and throws it on the ground in a fit. He scoffs, smoothing the feathers away from his face before looking at me. 

    “The hateful one,” he breathes. He stands up, barefoot but still tall without the frightening heels. “Good. You’re here.” He strides towards me. “I need you.”

    I take a step back and glare.

    “Yes!” Anatoly chuckles. “That look! That spite! It does things to me.”

    “Gross,” I scoff out. “Keep your things to yourself if you just brought me up here to talk to me like a pig!” 

    Anatoly regains composure and he smirks. “Dealt with a lot of pigs, have you?” He shakes his head. “I do not intend to sully myself with such mud unless it is at the spa and I can immerse myself in it.” He tilts his head this way and that. 

    “I have much bigger plans for you other than just ogling you and dirty talking.” His red eyes glance back into mine. “I have such plans for you!”

    My lip curls up and I take another step back. “Like what?”

    “This new line doesn’t suit you,” he sighs. “No, no. Far too dainty for you. You have muscle and character, you have things a person wants to grab hold of. You’re going to be my muse for my next collection.”

    I go slack for a minute and look at him. “Muse?” I scoff. “Me?”

    “You’re so perfect it’s rude,” he croons. “The spite and anger inside you, it suits my visions so well.” He moves over to his desk and produces a sketch pad from it. “Take a look. I was inspired by horror films of the 60’s and the 70’s. Women tortured and scared to death, brought to the edge and forced to claw their way out with their own primal yearnings. Their sexuality has been taken from them and used against them, but my designs will give it all back to these women. Rendered powerless and returned to chaos.”

    I give him a cautious and curious look. “Sounds rather ambitious for panties.” I take the sketchbook, but he yanks it away from me.

    “It is more than panties, girl!” He snarls at me. “You buy panties in bulk at the grocery store! What I create is something else.”

    I squint at him. “You think you can buy underwear at the grocery store.”

    Anatoly shakes the sketchpad at me. “My designs and all my hard work are more than a barrier between your nethers and the world. They are much more than that. They are confidence and desire, they are made as armor for the wearer.”

    “Armor?” I ask as he places the sketchbook back into my hands. I look through the pages, seeing dark and strange sketches. They remind me of ghost stories and haunted castles, they elicit a feeling of hearing voices in the shadows, or screams as the ocean crashes onto the shore. I hate how much I actually enjoy this eerie sensation.

    “I can see in your eyes you like it,” Anatoly whispers. He is intimately close to me and it makes me shiver. 

    I thrust the book back at him. “So?” I ask. “What makes you think I could inspire anything from this?”

    “Look at me again,” he growls. He grabs my face and forces me to look up at him. “There is rage inside you. A violent tempest ready to destroy the shore and drag all those there into hell with you. You have the ability to ruin lives.” His lips then spread into a wide grin. “I like that in a woman.”

    Anatoly releases me and I put my arm up between me and him. “What does a muse get paid? What do I have to do?”

    Anatoly walks around his desk and takes out a set of keys. “I’ll be giving you an apartment in the building I own. You will have room and board taken care of, you will also be given a credit card so you can buy anything you want. Once the collection is released, you will lead it.  You will also receive a percentage of the sales once it is released.”

    Anatoly walks over to me and places the keys into my hands. I look over the black, matte metal of each key before I glance back to him.

    “Why do I feel like I am possibly selling my soul to the devil?” I ask.

    A smirk crosses his lips, almost curling the corners. “Quite possibly because you are,” he whispers intimately again. “I will call you a car. They will take you to your new place and you will tell the driver where they can get your things. You will be moved in by tomorrow evening completely. After that, your soul and your horrible eyes belong to me until next season.” He struts back behind his desk and shuts the drawer he took the keys from.

    “Are you copasetic?” He hisses.

    “What makes you think I would take this job?” I ask him. “Why would I ever put myself at your whims and mercy when I barely enjoy being around you?”

    “We all have prices, Ms. Coriander. Horrible name, by the way.” Anatoly sighs and rises up. “We all have things we are willing to sell ourselves away for. So what’s yours?” He shrugs. “What will make you become my muse and my clay?”

    I think of my mom and my Auntie, after all, I was doing all this for them and the theatre.

    “The car is waiting, Ms. Coriander,” he whispers. “You best go.”

    I swallow down the lump in my throat and glare at him. “What’s my percentage?”

    “Hmm?” He glances up slightly. “Are you still here?”

    I storm up to his desk and slam down my hand on the top. “What is my percentage of the sales?” I snap at him. “Tell me now before I leave and never come back.”

    He scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Your percentage starts at five.” Anatoly’s red eyes begin to glow from within again. “That is, if the collection does go to sale.”

    I frown. “What do you mean ‘if’? Are you saying I could put myself through all this bullshit and I still wouldn’t get my pay?”

    “You’d get your pay, but you’d not get what you would if the collection goes to sale. The collection going on sale all depends on you.” He replies cooly. 

    “Me?” I scoff.

    “Yes, a good muse produces good work. Good work produces great product. Great product sells.” He hisses then sticks his tongue out slightly. “Be a good muse, Ms. Coriander, create a great product.”

    I frown at him and clutch my hands around the keys. “I will.”

    Anatoly chuckles and turns back to his desk. “I know you will. Or at least, I hope you do.” He sits down and sighs. “Now get out, before I start to hate you.”

    I stomp away and the elevator takes me down. Already, a driver is waiting for me just outside the elevator doors, along with Anatoly’s assistant. The assistant hands me a wallet that has cards and money tucked away inside. She then comes with me to Anatoly’s building, which is an old Victorian manor. 

    The assistant shows me to my apartment within the manor. It’s on the second floor and has an open loft sort of layout. There is a kitchen, living room, game room, bedroom, all in the open space, sectioned with pillars coated in mirrors. The bathroom takes up the far end of the room and it’s huge, bigger than my whole apartment. It is attached to a walk in closet that is already filled with all sorts of clothes and accessories. 

    “This is only to be used for work,” the assistant hands me a cellphone that’s the same sapphire blue as Anatoly’s neck and chest. “Anatoly is the only one who has access to it. I suggest you don’t let it ring more than three times.”

    “Are you kidding me?” I scoff.

    She shakes her head. “Nope!” She then scans my thumb so I can unlock the phone. “Text messages are strictly for your questions. That way he can keep track.”

    “Yeah, I’m sure,” I grumble. “So tell me, how many muses has Anatoly had?”

    “To date?” The assistant asks. “None.”

    I furrow my brow and look down at her. “What are you talking about? None?”

    The assistant nods then looks at her own phone. “He’s calling.” She answers and walks away from me, striding towards the kitchen area. I look back around my new apartment, wondering if I really have signed a deal with the devil.

    Perhaps I am Persephone and he is Hades. After all, he said he just needed me for the season. 

    For the first few days, I wondered if Anatoly forgot about me. I received no calls, no messages, nothing that would indicate that Anatoly needed me to work. I figured eventually he would come to his senses and I would be kicked out. Luckily, I still had my old place just in case.

    I wandered around my new apartment, doing whatever I wanted. The fridge was always stocked, including the small drink fridge beside it. The cabinets were full all the time as well. I wondered how everything stayed so stocked. I guess his assistants were run ragged all the time.

    I am getting comfy one day when the work phone rings. For a moment, I look at it as if confused. I feel like it is just a prop. But after the third ring, it shuts off. I missed the call.

    “Oh,” I look it over. “Huh.” I set the phone down and then my door opens. Anatoly lets himself in and struts over to me where I stand. 

    “Why didn’t you answer?” He huffs. His feathers fluff up and he shakes himself. “I called you and you’re supposed to answer.”

    “It only rang three times,” I say.

    “More than enough,” Anatoly snips. “You’re obviously here and looking at your phone! You were told to answer it promptly when I contact you. You didn’t do as you were instructed.”

    “So am I fired?” I scratch my thigh as I talk to him.

    Anatoly tilts his long neck to the side. “Not yet, you aren’t.” He curls his fingers at me. “Follow me. We’ve got work to do.”

    “Let me get changed, I haven’t showered yet, so-” I start to wander off and he grabs my hand.

    “I said follow me,” Anatoly replies. “That was not a suggestion. You won’t need to change or bathe where we’re going.”

    “Sex dungeon?” I grumble as I follow after him, barefoot and still in sleep clothes.

    “You’re going to wish it was a sex dungeon when I am through with you today. Enough mouth. Save your energy for the work we’re about to do.”

    “Sounds like a sex dungeon to me.” I follow behind him as we go up a flight of stairs. It corkscrews around then goes along a catwalk like platform across the ceiling, which then leads into an attic room. 

    Anatoly takes off his top as he strides into the room. He drapes it over a chair then cranks a rod, which opens up the windows on the ceiling. Sunlight pours in and I block my eyes from the light. Anatoly then locks the lever and comes over to me.

    “Take off your clothes,” he commands. “All of them.”

    I frown at him. “What for? What’s going on here?”

    “You’re my muse, remember?” Anatoly walks around me. “I hired you to inspire me. So please, take off your clothes and be your regular charming self,” he sniffs. He then walks away, setting up an easel as I strip off my clothes. 

    Anatoly looks up at me and his red eyes gaze along my body. “Do you work out?”

    “I box,” I answer.

    “Rude.” A smirk crosses Anatoly’s lips. He gives me a look and I frown. “You’re a model and you box?” He scoffs.

    “Yeah, and?” I grunt. I fold my arms over my chest. “I boxed before I started all this. Did it as a kid, still do it.”

    “I was wondering how you had such bulky arms,” Anatoly sighs as he takes watercolor to the paper.

    I roll my eyes, knowing he’s trying to get a rise out of me. I walk around the attic, he doesn’t seem to mind what I do. I look over the strange antiques up there, including a gold clock that is shaped like a peacock.

    “You at least have an ass that makes up for things,” he sighs.

    I turn around and put my hand over my butt. “Do I really have to be naked for this? I thought I was a muse, not a nude life model?”

    “The reality of women, and all people really, is that they are not the perfect poised creatures that they are made out to be. They are raw and awkward, misshapen and completely unaltered. Even if you pay to have the body you do, there is still imperfection in it.” He looks over the easel at me. “You may be a beautiful woman, but you are still clay in the eyes of God or whoever it is you believe in.” He glances back to the canvas. “You are unfinished even in death.”

    “And that means?” I glare at him.

    “Nudity is the only honesty we can have.” Anatoly murmurs.

    I walk over to him, standing beside the easel. “Then you get naked,” I curl my lip.

    Anatoly glares up at me, his red eyes flashing in the light. He laughs haughtily and continues to paint. “You aren’t ready for that sight yet.”

    “Awfully cocky.” I smirk.

    “Yes, exactly. I am awful with the cock.” He sneers back in my face. “Better women than you have tried to get me to whip it out. I won’t stand for such idle things.”

    I step aside. “As if I would ever try such things with you. I doubt you’ve got anything down there worth note. Unless it’s blue or green, of course. But for you, even that is unimpressive.”

    “God, the mouth on you.” Anatoly rolls his eyes. “I’m not paying you to talk, I’m paying you to inspire.”

    I chuckle and lean in close. He puts his hand out to stop me from seeing the canvas. “What? I can’t see?”

    “No one sees them until I’m ready,” Anatoly growls. “So stand back. If you look before it’s ready, I’ll give you a spanking.”

    “You keep trying to tell me this isn’t a sex dungeon, but I am not that convinced.” I strut away, going towards the back of the room where there is a sofa. I lay down on it and stretch my legs out. 

    For the next few days, this is basically all we do. He takes me from my place and up into his weird attic workshop. While there, he paints and draws all the while we trade barbs and insults with one another. 

    One day, I am not feeling like much of anything. I didn’t sleep well and I have a bit of a headache. When Anatoly calls, I answer to simply shut up the ringer.

    “Come up to the attic, Odie,” he says.

    “No,” I grumble.

    “Excuse me?” Anatoly scoffs. “I told you to do your job. You get no say in the matter.”

    “If you so want me to work, then you can come down here and get it from me,” I snarl at him. I hang up the phone and lay back down in bed.

    A few minutes later, Anatoly bursts in and glares at me from the doorway. He storms into the room and rips back my blankets. I turn away from him and cover my head with a pillow.

    “Get up!” Anatoly snaps at me.

    “No,” I growl. “You said you didn’t need me to do anything, so just do whatever it is you need to do here.”

    “And why is that?” Anatoly crosses his arms against his bare chest.

    “Maybe because I hate you. Maybe because I feel like shit this morning!” I sit up and snap at him. 

    Anatoly narrows his eyes at me and I see his tongue dart across his lips. “That’s it.” He crawls onto the bed and grabs me. “This is it.”

    I shove him away from me. “I’m sick of you!”

    Anatoly has a wicked grin on his face. “This is what I’ve been seeing. The exhaustion, the fight, the hatred all at once. This is so rude right now!” He laughs triumphantly.

    I try to push him away and off the bed, but he grabs me by the wrists. “Let go of me! I don’t care about your stupid panties or what sort of stupid meaning you put behind them.”

    “I know that mouth of yours has better uses,” Anatoly snarls as he fights me. “I’ve been thinking of several while we work.”

    I feel a heat in my loins, it’s been there for a while. Sometimes when words get heated between Anatoly and me, I grow wet with excitement. “I bet you would,” I laugh. “Only a dirty minded bird like you could create the things you do.”

    Anatoly seethes and grabs a fistful of my hair in his hands. “Let me try one of my methods and see how much you enjoy it.” Our mouths clash together. I bite his lips and tongue and press myself close to him. I grab hold of him, angrily, desperately. He pushes me down onto the bed and we gasp for breath and I wrap my legs around his waist. We moan and snarl, fighting and kissing at the same time.

    I glare deep into his eyes as our lips part, saliva stringing between them. “I knew you’d be good at that.” Anatoly licks my lips. “Kept you quiet too.”

    I slap his face and he grins devilishly. “You best be glad I didn’t rip your face off with my teeth.” I pull him down for another kiss and suck his tongue. 

    He rips away again, grinning at me as he breathes heavy. “My cock is better than my tongue, you bitch.”

    “Are you just going to talk or are you going to show it to me?” I reach down inside my underwear, wetting my fingers. I’ve never felt this hot and wet before. I’ve absolutely soaked through my underwear and shorts.

    I pull out my soaking fingers and shove them into Anatoly’s mouth. He grabs my wrist, biting hard on my fingers and licking them clean. He then takes my hand, rubbing it to the front of his pants. 

    “You want it?” He pants. “Then come and get it yourself.”

    I sit up and shove him mercilessly down onto the bed. I rip open his pants, finding he’s wearing a pair of panties that are of his own design. The tip of his cock peeks out of the top of the black and gray lace. It’s nearly black and faded down into blue. I rub the front of the panties and hear Anatoly moan. The tip is leaking precum the more I touch.

    “Wearing your armor, are we?” I grin up at him. 

    “They’re comfortable,” Anatoly snarls. “They look good on me too. Don’t they?”

    I strip away my clothes then dip down, licking the front of his panties and up to his tip. I stop there and blow on him. Anatoly shivers and grunts. He rolls his hips, but I move away from his advances. 

    “You want it?” I taunt him. “Come and get it.”

    Anatoly sits up and glares at me. “I’ve never met someone as frustrating as you.” He grabs me by the scruff of my neck again and kisses me. His fingers trail down my body then slip inside me. I choke on his tongue as his long fingers slick inside me. I can feel my cum sliding down my thighs as he stirs me up. I grunt and moan into his mouth, surprised by how good his touch feels.

    Anatoly shoves me down onto the bed, pressing my face down into the pillows. He gets behind me and bends over my back. His cock rubs against my ass and he moans directly into my ear.

    “Only thing good about you is this ass,” he breathes. He gropes and squeezes my ass with his own hand. He then slaps it and I cry out. It shouldn’t feel this good. None of this should, but I want it all so badly.

    “You got nothing to say now?” He spanks me again and I laugh with a shudder.

    “All talk, aren’t you?” I snarl back at him. “I bet that cock can’t even do anything. Two pump chump, I bet that’s all you are.” I wiggle my ass against him. “Go ahead. Prove me right.”

    Anatoly’s fingers around my neck dig deeper and I groan in pleasure. He spanks me again as his cock slips inside me. I hate how good he feels inside. He’s nice and long, but thick at the base, almost as if he has a knot there. Anatoly snarls as he grinds inside me, he then pulls all the way out and slams back hard inside.

    I choke out a cry and snarl into the pillow. My fingers dig hard into the sheets and I push myself back against him. I put him inside me and he spanks me, pulling out completely.

    “Greedy girl,” he chuckles. “You want more?”

    “Don’t act like you don’t like me.” I rub my ass against his throbbing shaft. “I know you want inside me more than anything. Just take me. Do it.”

    Anatoly bends back over me, his teeth sink into my shoulder and his hand slides around to the front of my neck. He lifts my head up and bites my earlobe. He pushes back deep inside me and I let out a wail of pleasure. He grunts and sighs in my ear, fucking me with a fury. We kiss again and I don’t want him to stop.

    “If you want it so bad,” he wheezes in my ear, “take it.” He pulls away and lays down on the bed.

    I climb on top of him and slap his face as I sit on his cock. “Of course you make me do all the work.” I bounce on him, riding him until I find my groove. I grab onto his thighs, leaning back against them and gripping him hard with my fingers. “Do you like watching this?” I pant. I remove one hand and stop moving. I rub myself, letting him watch as frustration grows on his face.

    “I don’t even need you,” I moan.

    Anatoly suddenly sits up and grabs me. He kisses me hard and moves from under me. I gasp and moan, clinging to him until we topple onto the bed. He drives hard into me and there is a sharp spike that goes from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. I cry out, clawing my fingernails down his back. He shouts out and kisses me, both of us moaning and snarling. His heat follows mine, it trembles and throbs and soon overflows from within me. 

    After a while, we pull apart and lay side by side on my bed. We both just lay there, quiet and unsure. I feel so strange, caught in a place between joy and confusion. I swallow and glance over at him.

    “So, uhm-” I push my hair out of my face. “That was uhm...It happened.”

    “Yeah,” Anatoly murmurs. “It did.”

    It’s quiet again for another long spell. I’m trying to sort out all the thoughts in my head when he rolls over and kisses me. This time it’s soft and gentle, but there’s still that sharp edge to it.

    “I’ve been aching to do that for weeks now,” he moans into my ear. “You piss me off so much, it’s all I can do not to fuck you where you stand.”

    “Don’t talk like that,” I smirk. “You’re making promises you can’t keep.”

    “I knew I finally found you,” he whispers before he kisses me again. “You’re sleeping in my bed tonight in case I need you.”

    I loop my legs around his waist. “Why does it always have to be about you?”

    “All my toys are there, calm down,” Anatoly moans. 

    Things continue this way for a long time. Our barbs and heated words become passion and sex so easily. I’m not sure when he is able to work; when he’s either inside me or having me peg him furiously. All in all, it isn’t a bad way to live.

    One morning, I wake up to him nudging me awake. He hands me a portfolio like it’s breakfast. “Where’s my coffee?” I grumble.

    He’s wearing my tee shirt from last night. “Just look at it,” he scoffs.

    I open it and see the first design. For a moment, I’m taken breathless. The girl in the drawing is obviously me, drawn to the very finest detail. I feel a bit embarrassed by how lovely he’s made me look. He’s not one to embellish or lie like that. My heart flutters as I roam through the sketches, each one more inspired than the last.

    “I wanted to show you last night, but, you know.” He laughs.

    I reach up and kiss him. “They’re amazing.” I chuckle as tears come to my eyes. “They’re all so inspired. If they look anything like this on the runway, you’ll be the only thing that matters.”

    Anatoly chuckles. “My, my, I wasn’t expecting such supportive words from you, my troublesome horror.”

    I scoff and look back at the book. “I mean, what else can I say? I do mean it. They’re better than I expected.”

    “Are they?” He puts his arms around me. “Nothing bad to say at all? No hatred for my plans?”

    I kiss him again. “The only thing I hate is how much I’m in love with you.”

    Anatoly smirks. “You know what? I really hate that too.” He tangles his long fingers into my hair. “Glad to know that for once, you and I are on the same page. Too bad my lover doesn’t get the same percentage as my muse?”

    I frown at him. “Oh? And what do I get?”

    “Fifty percent if you marry me,” he laughs. “Plus my name.”

    I grin up at him. “No way. I’ll only do such a thing if you take my name.”

    “Let’s fight over it,” Anatoly chuckles. “Best two out of three?”

    I kiss him and laugh. “I want breakfast first. Go get it.” I shove him out of bed, happy to watch him cross the room to where he has a coffee station set up and ready for any whim.

    I’m not sure exactly what to make of this, perhaps I am Persephone after all. Hades isn’t so bad, I mean, there are a lot worse people out there than the King of Hell.